Living in the moment. Rachel couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t extrapolate out the consequences of her actions. It was difficult to live in the moment when you were so busy analyzing the effects. And why? Because she had been so concerned about how her behavior would reflect on her family, her church, her faith. It wasn’t her own reputation she’d been worried about, it was everyone else’s. But now?
No one was watching her here but Daphne. There were no fellow congregants to run into at the mall or the movie theater who might disapprove of what they saw her buying or watching, who might think less of Karen and Owen’s parenting. Her coworkers weren’t judging her God by the way she interacted with them and snarky customers. To everyone here she was just Rachel, the new girl from California.
“Earth to Rachel,” Daphne said in a sing-song voice. “What’s going on in that head?”
Rachel sat up straighter. “I think it’s finally sinking in that I’m totally starting over here. I can be whoever I want and no one will know any different—except for you.”
“Who do you want to be?”
Rachel let out a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been ‘the Christian’ for so long, I can’t even think of what else to be.”
“Then just pick something you’ve always wanted to try. Get your Illinois teaching credential. Or go with the coffee thing. Or pick nothing, just see what life brings your way.”
Rachel nodded. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” She bit her lip. “But what if I totally flop at whatever it is I try to become?”
“Then you can be someone else. Identities aren’t concrete.”
That took a minute to sink in. The idea that God had made her for a specific reason and with a specific role in the kingdom had been the foundation of her identity for as long as she could remember. Who she was hadn’t been up to her; it had been created for her and handed down from on high. To be in charge of her destiny had its appeal, but it was scary, too. And what was the point, the end goal, if everyone was just doing their own thing for their own gain? What was the purpose of a life lived for itself?
It was one of the few aspects of her new life she didn’t like, and as she finished her drink and mixed another, she found herself longing for someone to just tell her who she was.
Because she was really starting to wonder.
o
Rachel was pulled from sleep by the persistent ring of her cell phone. She groped for it on her nightstand as she struggled to sit up. “Hello?”
“Rachel?”
Her eyes opened as the unexpected voice of her mother brought her fully awake. “Mom. Hi.”
“I woke you—I’m sorry.”
“No. I mean, yes, but it’s all right.” Why didn’t I look before I answered?
“I went as long as I could without calling. We don’t have to talk long, I just … needed to know you were still okay.”
“Yeah, um, I’m fine. Daphne’s got a nice place, I work at a coffee place down the street … it’s all good.”
“I’m glad, honey. Really, I am. Just knowing you’re okay makes me feel so much better.”
Guilt bubbled up. Why didn’t I just call her once to let her know I was all right? Of course she was worried. “I’m sorry, Mom.” She thought back to the fight they’d had before she’d left. “About everything.”
“Water under the bridge, sweetheart.”
Rachel didn’t really want to talk, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut the conversation short, either. “So … how are things?”
“They’re all right, although …”
“What?”
“Well, your father.” Rachel’s stomach clenched. “He’s in Nebraska, at a hospital there. He crashed badly—not a car accident crash, I mean mentally. Emotionally.”
This was more than Rachel wanted to know. “You know, I think I liked it better when I had no idea any of this was going on.”
“I know, honey. I’m sorry.”
She felt her temper rising the more she dwelled on it. “I mean, what am I supposed to do about it? What do I do with that information? Am I supposed to go visit him or something? Send him a card?”
“No, Rachel—there are no expectations on you when it comes to all of this.”
“Then why tell me anything? Now I get to sit and worry that my dad might be some mental patient wacko and that I might be next.”
“Wait—first you’re mad at us for not telling you about all this, and now you’re mad when I finally do? You need to make up your mind.” Her mother’s tone belied her exasperation.
“At this point, unless there’s something I can actually do to fix the situation, I don’t want to know the details. What good does it do me?”
“All right then, I won’t tell you anything else.” The line was silent for a moment before her mother added, “So tell me about Chicago.”
Rachel shrugged. She didn’t really feel like letting her mother into her life right now. She was enjoying the autonomy. “It’s … I don’t know. It’s a city, it’s big, it’s hot. We’re near the University of Chicago, so there are a lot of younger people in the neighborhood. Everyone’s friendly. Daphne and I are having fun as roommates. The job is good, I like my boss and the people I work with. Yeah … everything’s fine.”
“That’s good, that’s good. Glad to hear it.”
Rachel opened her mouth to end the conversation, but missed her opportunity as her mom spoke again. “Well, the legal separation is in place, and as soon as your father is, um, back in town, I’ll start moving on with the divorce. Claire came over the other day and helped me box up his things. Grandma and Grandpa Westing are coming to get it all on Monday. I already feel so much better—”
“Stop.” Anger had built with every word her mother had spoken. “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to hear about how my family is falling apart, all right?”
There was a beat of silence. “I—I just thought you should know where things stand.”
“Fine, then tell me you’re separated, don’t tell me how thrilled you are about it.”
“All right. Okay. I’m used to telling you about my life, but I can understand that you might not want to hear about it right now.” Her mother’s voice held a note of wounded pride, and Rachel couldn’t help feeling badly about it.
“It’s not that I don’t want to—oh, never mind. Look, I should go, I have to work soon.”
“All right then. Oh—I’m going to put a check in the mail for you—for winter clothes.”
“It’s July, Mom. The high yesterday was ninety-two.”
“I know, I know, but you know how far ahead of the season they bring things out these days.”
“Thanks, Mom. But … I know you probably have lots of expenses right now. And I’m okay. I have a job, remember?”
“I know, but you also have a whole new wardrobe to build.”
Rachel finally recognized the olive branch being extended and felt bad giving her mother a hard time about it. “Okay, Mom. Thanks. Send the check.” Her alarm clock began to buzz, making her jump. “Okay, Mom. I gotta go.”
“Take care of yourself, Rachel. Don’t forget I’m still here for you, if you need anything at all, okay?”
“Okay, okay.” She sighed. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I love you.”
“Love you too.” She winced at the words as she hung up, hating how false they felt in her mouth. Not that she didn’t love her mother, but her mother wasn’t who she used to be anymore. Did she love the woman who was kicking her husband to the curb and gushing about how good it felt?
Her heart ached the more she thought about the conversation. Truthfully she missed her mom, the woman to whom she’d spent her life telling every secret and triumph and fear. Now so much was new in her life that she could have filled an hour with description. But she didn’t feel right telling this newly unfamiliar person all the intimate details.
Rachel dragged herself to the shower, depres
sed. What a way to start the day. But knowing she’d be seeing Jack soon started to lift the fog.
I didn’t even tell her I’m seeing someone.
She sighed. Nope, she was still depressed.
o
On the afternoon of July 3, Rachel and Jack went to the Taste of Chicago, the city’s annual food and music festival in Grant Park. Shuffling along through the crowd of thousands, they traded food likes and dislikes and discovered they’d both rather stick to the safer Italian and American cuisines and skip the more adventurous foreign fare.
“See, I would have expected you to be all into sushi and Mediterranean and … I don’t know … weird stuff.”
Rachel laughed. “Why?”
“Because you’re from California. I thought all Californians ate weird food. I mean, look at their pizza.”
“I can see why folks might think that. But isn’t that like thinking all Chicagoans are in the mob and can trace their family roots to the Capones?”
“Who said we couldn’t?” He wagged his eyebrows. “Remind me to call Machine-Gun Jack after we’re done so I can have him check the shipment of moonshine.”
Jack steered Rachel to the classic Chicago vendors—Vienna Beef hot dogs, Lou Malnati’s for another take on Chicago-style pizza, potato chips from Harry Caray’s, and Eli’s Cheesecake for dessert. They ate as they walked from one booth to another, dodging the knots of fellow eaters and eventually making their way to the Petrillo Music Shell to listen to the orchestra while they waited for the fireworks to begin.
They found a spot on the grass and sat. Jack set down his beer on a level patch of ground and leaned back on his elbows. Rachel remained upright and held her iced coffee to protect herself. She was oddly nervous. Of all the times they’d been out together, this one most felt like a real date. And she still didn’t know if she could call him her boyfriend.
They sat in silence for a while, people-watching and listening to the music. After a while, Jack drew a deep breath and Rachel steeled herself for what she suspected might be coming.
“So I get this sneaking suspicion you’re not comfortable with me.”
It wasn’t what she expected. “What? Why?”
He grinned, which set her a bit at ease. At least he wasn’t mad. “Well, we’ve gone out about ten times, and not once have you let me kiss you.”
An anxious giggle bubbled from her stomach. “Let you kiss me? You didn’t wait for permission the first time.”
She melted a bit when she saw the embarrassment in his face. “Touché,” he said. “But that was different. And I’ve already admitted it wasn’t the most chivalrous thing to do. The thing is, a guy doesn’t have to make a move to be able to tell if a girl is going to let him. And what’s more, you haven’t tried to kiss me, either. Now, I’m guessing that we wouldn’t have had a second date, much less a tenth one, if you didn’t think there was a spark. And since we have already kissed, kissing again shouldn’t really be that big a deal. So that leads me to believe that you’re interested, but not entirely comfortable. Am I right?”
Rachel hung her head, then nodded. “But it’s not you,” she said as she forced herself to look him in the eyes.
Jack looked at his watch. “Fireworks don’t start for an hour. That’s plenty of time for you to tell me what has you so spooked.”
Rachel bit her lip. Embarrassment made the words stick in her throat. She took a sip of her coffee and heaved a deep breath. “Okay. Well, for starters … remember how I told you I’d been engaged back in California?”
Jack snapped his fingers. “I knew it. Your fiancé screwed you over, didn’t he?”
Rachel laughed. “An interesting metaphor, given the situation. He cheated on me, with my roommate. Not just once, either—for a few months.”
“Unbelievable. I’m sorry, Rachel.” Jack shook his head. “So that’s why you moved?”
“Well … one of the reasons, yes.”
“There’s more? What else did he do?”
“It wasn’t all about him.” Rachel took another drink from her coffee and debated whether or not to explain it all. Sharing all this personal information didn’t feel like the right thing to do if she was going to “keep things light” like Daphne had suggested. Though what good was any relationship if you didn’t know a person well? Wasn’t being known by someone the whole point of relationships in the first place? Even casual ones?
Rachel rubbed her forehead and frowned. “Okay, here goes … my parents are getting a divorce because my dad is bipolar and went off the deep end. And a good friend of mine ended up in rehab for a drug problem that she hid from everyone for over a year. So that, plus what happened with Patrick, is why I moved. Everyone close to me, except for Daphne, turned out to be someone else, in one way or another. I felt completely betrayed. And the whole foundation of my life was rocked—I couldn’t get over it and move on with all of them right there, you know? So Daphne offered for me to come live with her.” She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “So there’s the long reason for why I’m gun-shy. It’s not you. It’s what I’m still processing and trying to get past.”
Jack drained his beer and crushed the plastic cup. “That’s messed up. Not you,” he said quickly. “Your whole situation. I don’t blame you for leaving the state. And I definitely don’t blame you for wanting to go slow.”
Relief flooded her. “I’m so glad you understand.” She leaned back, bracing herself on an outstretched arm and chuckling. “You have no idea how—”
Her words were muffled by a kiss that first stopped her heart and then sent it beating double-time. It was brief, and low on the intensity scale compared to their first, but it did the trick. When it stopped, she sat up straight and stared at him in shock.
“Yeah, I know you said you wanted to go slow, and we will,” he said, looking chagrined. “But I figured if there was anyone who needed a good kiss, it was you.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words in her head weren’t queuing up into anything intelligible. She sipped her coffee and tried again. “Um, wow. Thank you?”
He laughed. “I think that’s what you said the first time. Anyway, you’re welcome. There’s more where that came from, but I promise not to spring any of them on you again. You take all the time you need.”
“Okay.” She let out a nervous chuckle, flustered and unsure what to say or do next. “I’m going to go … um … find a bathroom. I’ll be right back.” She jumped up and forced herself to walk at a casual pace. What now? She found a cluster of portable bathrooms and got in the longest line to buy herself more time. She needed to think.
But when she tried to think, she realized her mind felt made up already. There was no denying his kisses were electric—or that she liked them. More than liked them. She wanted more of them, and not just because of how intense they were—but because it gave her hope that decent men could like her. She wasn’t destined to be alone forever. She didn’t only attract losers. She had a shot at a normal relationship.
By the time she returned to their patch of grass, the sky was nearly black. Jack overacted a gesture of relief. “You’re back! I was worried I’d scared you off. Honestly, I promise not to do it again.”
Rachel sat beside him, leaving little room between them. “In general, I would appreciate that you keep your promises. But that one …” She gave him a slow smile that she hoped conveyed permission. “That one I’ll be happy to see you break.”
o
Rachel had gone to the Taste of Chicago as a single woman, but she returned home as a girlfriend. She couldn’t wipe the silly grin from her face, despite how her cheeks ached. She had little recollection of the fireworks—her memory was too concerned with the various kisses she had given and received beneath the light show. The confidence and relief she felt knowing that a good guy like Jack was interested in her did much to soothe the raw wounds on her heart. She’d floated to bed where she stared at the ceiling for far too long, reliving the evening and fantasizing about
the future.
Daphne was a squealing mess over breakfast the next morning when Rachel told her the news. “So romantic!”
Rachel laughed. “Not really.”
“Well, the kiss itself might not have been romantic, but the gesture, the sentiment … I love it. I’m so happy for you.”
Rachel poured the Venezuelan Mérida into her mug and debated her next statement before making it. “I have a question for you. And don’t read too much into it—I’m just curious and nosy.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she knew Daphne wouldn’t mind.
Daphne raised her eyebrows. “My life is an open book for you, mon amie.”
“When did you first have sex?”
“Hm.” She smirked slightly. “Prom, senior year.”
Rachel choked back her mouthful of coffee. “High school? And you never told me?”
“I was afraid of what you’d think.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Guilt rose in her stomach. “So, let’s see, you went with Rob Panner, right?”
“Yeah, well …” She took a sip and waved her hand in a vague way. “I went to the dance with Rob. But I actually slept with Justin Fellows.”
“What? Who was his date?”
“Tracie Gardner.”
“Did she ever find out?”
“No, she was so blitzed she passed out in their room, like, halfway through the dance.”
Rachel shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this.” She rubbed her forehead and took another sip of her coffee. “Okay, well, that’s all ancient history, doesn’t apply to this conversation anyway.” She sat up a little straighter. “Okay, so the next question is: Were you glad you did it?”
This time the answer didn’t come so quickly. Daphne thought for a moment, swirling her spoon through her cereal, then said, “Well, I was glad I’d gotten it over with and knew what all the fuss was about, you know? I wasn’t glad I’d let Justin be the first one, because he really didn’t know what he was doing, and it wasn’t all that great. But at least the mystique was gone. I knew the mechanics, I knew what to expect, so the next time I did it I knew what to do differently to make it better. So … yeah, I wish I’d picked someone a little more experienced so my memory of my first time wasn’t quite so ‘blah,’ but it’s not like it ruined the act for me forever.”
Reinventing Rachel Page 12